Title: To Have & To Hold
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Nine - Time out of Time
Rating: R - if this rating is too high, or you are too young, you can miss this chapter and not completely ruin the story for yourself.
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Authors Note: Here be dragons...or rather, here be the naughty stuff. If you be of a tender and youthful persuasion, be gone and don't read any further. If, on the other hand, you are quite ready to read an orgy of fluff and nonsense, including naughty sexual stuff and heady romance between consenting characters, then read on...and don't blame me if your underwear melts from the heat generated by this chapter. You have been warned. Of course, as always it is written with all due regard to good taste, to the best of my ability, despite blatant, gratuitous bath scenes and rampant nudity.
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Wendy poked disconsolately at the fire burning brightly within the circle of stones, her chin resting on her hand as she sighed again, her eyes drawn to the darkness beyond the windows. After Peter left on his hunt for their food, Wendy had rummaged through the rooms and gathered what she could find to use to make their accommodation more habitable. Despite her ragged blouse and skirt, she didn't change but kept them on, preferring to worry about changing when she had finished the worst of the cleaning up. She had gathered a fair bundle of twigs and dry branches from around the small buildings before snapping off a handful of the shrubby weeds and using them as brooms to sweep out the old ash and accumulated rubbish around the fire. Thoroughly grimy, she then set to and cleaned as much of the floor area as she deemed necessary to give them somewhere to sleep and eat. As the sunlight faded, she used the rusted tinderbox she'd found to ignite the dry grasses which quickly flared up, the equally dry kindling glowing as it sent up sparks to the roof opening above. With the fire well alight, Wendy hurried to the dressing up cupboard and gathered together as many clothes as she could carry, dragging them back to the central room and heaping them on the floor, making several trips before she was satisfied she had enough. She then sorted through them by the light of the fire and set aside a suit of clothes for Peter alongside the dress she'd chosen for herself. The remainder were laid out to make a soft bed, the worst of the dust shaken out of them and placed button side down. She had found a collection of buckets, both wooden and metal, and they now stood near the fire waiting for their turn to be suspended over the flames to warm the water for the old bath. That had also been dragged into use, positioned near the fire, a old rope used to create a curtain around the hip bath using some of the clothes. It was crude but better than nothing. One bucket of water had been already heated and used to clean up a collection of plates, mugs and cutlery, in preparation for the meal to come, Wendy unable to countenance using them in their original state.
Now she sat, exhausted and a little anxious, her eyes constantly straining to see beyond the limit of the fire's light to the darkness outside and Peter's anticipated return.
She wanted desperately to take a bath, her hands and forearms the only part of her to be clean after washing the dishes, but she also didn't want to be caught by Peter with nothing on except her modesty.
As she stared into the flames once more, she pondered what she was going to do about him, her feelings see-sawing between throwing herself into his arms and letting common sense be damned, or keeping him at arm's length until she had a declaration out of him as to his intentions.
Everything was happening too fast for her to catch up, her fear for his well being after the fight outweighing her natural caution around someone she hardly knew. Of course, Neverland was not exactly a normal place for any kind of sensible consideration, given the fact she had been snatched apparently at the whim of a book and possibly Peter, and getting to know someone as volatile and unpredictable as Peter Pan was rather like catching lightning in a bottle - impossible.
But for all that, she did know that he cared for her, felt something for her, just as he had when she'd first been brought to his world, her own feelings thrown into disarray by his devastating use of physical persuasion against his apparently ambivalent emotional state.
It all made her head ache.
She wished he would appear in the doorway, successful in his hunt or not, and put her fears to rest.
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Peter hoisted the carcass over his shoulder, disregarding the gore trickling down his back. The sunset through the trees was casting strange colored shadows over the forest floor and he turned his face in the direction he felt the fort was placed.
He hoped Wendy would be pleased with his catch, his forehead furrowing briefly as he considered that she might not take to kindly to having a bloody carcass to cook. He'd also bagged some small birds and fish to add to their meal. From his belt hung another bag containing a haul of fruit to give them a dessert. In all he'd been very successful and felt a glow warming his heart as he pictured Wendy's heartfelt gratitude delivered in a bone melting kiss when the hunter returned.
Shifting the heavy body across his shoulder again, he thought about his feelings for Wendy, trying to part his rampant physical desire for her from what his heart was trying to tell him.
Did he love her? Or just want her? And would either be enough to satisfy the longing that gnawed at his insides whenever he was with her. He smiled to himself with the satisfaction of knowing that she was far from indifferent to him, her childish infatuation transmuted and recreated into feelings that he hoped were bordering on love.
But did he love her?
He loved the way her face lit up whenever their eye's met, he loved the way her lips pulled up at the corners, he loved the way she moved, the way she touched him, the way she laughed. He love the way she reacted when he teased her, her eyes flashing anger and indignation before softening, unable to remain angry with him for long.
Was that enough?
Sighing gustily Peter quickened his pace as the walls of the palisade appeared from out of the trees, the final burst of color in the sky above him turning the weed choked walls a briefly muted red before disappearing altogether and leaving the fort shrouded in gloom. As he pushed past the leaning gates he saw the glow of a fire in one of the huts, the flicker of flames casting a golden glow over the interior and warming him immeasurably to know that Wendy was there waiting for him.
The thought of a warm fire put new strength in his legs and he strutted up to the door of the hut and flung it wide, turning sideways to get himself and his trophies through the opening.
"Oh thank heaven's you're back." Wendy cried, jumping to her feet and hurrying over to relieve him of some of his burdens.
"Did you miss me?"
"Of course not." Wendy retorted, quickly sweeping off a table top to allow him to lay the still dripping carcass down. Glad to get the weight off his shoulders, Peter stood for a moment and flexed his arms, feeling the sinews tense then relax as he let go a sigh of relief.
"Good grief but you're a sight!" Wendy exclaimed as the firelight illuminated the gore coating his front and arms.
Peter shrugged and divested himself of the weapons he'd found in the armory and the rest of the food. "No blood, no bounty!"
"Too true...more's the pity. Strip off that shirt, I have a bucket here for you to sluice off before we prepare that meat."
Grateful to pull off the sodden shirt, Peter wadded it into a ball and tossed it into a distant corner while Wendy fetched the bucket and a bundle of cloths for him to use.
"What I really need is a bath." Peter stated ruefully, looking at the small bucket and then down at the expanse of blood coated skin covering his chest and belly.
"Yes...I can quite see that. I'll need to warm some more buckets, so why don't you do what you have to do to that," she pointed to the carcass, "and I'll see about filling that tub."
Building up the fire, Wendy hung two buckets over the flames and watched as they steamed, Peter turning his back and slicing off the hide to expose the choice cuts of meat, placing them on a plate ready to be spitted before cooking over the flames.
With the meat sliced, he turned to the birds. Sitting sideways on a bench he quickly divested the pullets of their feathers, the air filling with downy fluff, before he gutted them and threaded them on a spit ready for roasting. While he worked he watched Wendy lift the buckets off the cross bar and carry them over to the bath, using cloths to protect her hands from the hot metal. After emptying several buckets into the tub, he watched as she wiped a grubby sleeve across her forehead to catch the sweat pouring off her face, flames highlighting the sheen of moisture as it dripped down her neck and under her blouse.
One particular drip had him mesmerized, the tiny bead of dew snaking down and disappearing from sight, his imagination supplying its route between her breasts and beyond.
"I think they're ready to be cooked...don't you?" Wendy's voice snapped him out of his trance, her eyes flicking between his face and the plump birds waiting to be turned into their supper.
Getting to his feet he approached the fire and deftly positioned the birds above the flames, the skin searing instantly, burning off the last of the feathers. Beyond the fire the bath steamed gently to itself, luring him around the fire to dip his fingers in and test the temperature.
"Perfect."
Suddenly he couldn't wait to get his clothes off, shucking his pants without a thought for his audience and stepping into the tin tub, turning around to face the fire before sinking down in to the hot water. He groaned his pleasure as the water soaked into his tired limbs, his head falling back on the edge of the tub as another moan passed his lips.
"Peter?"
Lifting his impossibly heavy head, he saw Wendy watching him with an amused expression, one eyebrow raised as she held her hand out to him.
"You might use these...and don't be all night, I want to get rid of a days worth of dust and spiders webs myself before we eat."
Taking the wash clothes, Peter energetically scrubbed his skin, the draped curtain of clothes keeping out the worst of the drafts, the fire hot and bright in front of the bath. Wendy busied herself on the other side of the fire, her face feeling hot from the flush of seeing Peter once more as naked as God created him, her previous decision to keep a cool distance between herself and Peter until she saw some indication of his intentions, blown all to heaven and back with his shedding of his clothes with as little regard to her presence as a babe.
Surreptitiously she watched him splash about, twisting and turning his torso to reach his back and arms, her eyes drawn to the play of muscles under the golden skin, the fire highlighting the water dripping off tousled hair and firm chin.
"You're staring." Peter's amused voice snapped her back to the present and she blinked across the fire at him, finding his eyes twinkling back at her, his lips pulled back in a grin of pure wickedness. Before she could voice a denial or turn her head away, he rose up in a single motion, like a golden god rising from the sea, water cascading off firm thighs and long legs, tapering hips and narrow waist, drips lingering on the ends of strong fingers and trailing across a well defined chest, down an indented abdomen and beyond.
Unable to pull her eyes away from the bounty before her, Wendy could only sit immobile, her mouth hanging inelegantly open as he stepped out of the hip bath and pulled an item of clothing down off the line and started to dry himself.
"Your turn." Peter said softly.
Snapping her mouth shut, Wendy swallowed hard and finally managed to tear her eyes from him, turning her head away so swiftly she almost twisted her neck in the process.
"Oh dear." Wendy murmured faintly, pacing slowly around the fire as Peter stepped further away from the bath.
"Am I supposed to wear something from here?" Peter asked, indicating the curtain of clothes.
"Oh...er..no. I have a set of clothes for you...here...they've been shaken free of dust and are as clean as I can get them." Wendy handed him the neatly folded shirt and breeches, her eyes fixed above his waistline. Their fingers brushed lightly as he accepted the bundle, Wendy stifling a gasp as a frission of heat passed between them. Peter felt it too and his eyes gleamed, firelight flashing off his toothy grin before he turned away to dress.
Keeping half an eye on Peter's broad shoulders, Wendy slipped behind the crude curtain afforded by the hanging clothes and reached behind her back to free the buttons holding the remains of her blouse against her sticky back. Freed of her tight bodice, Wendy fumbled for the buttons of her skirt, her fingers clumsy as she tried to still their nervous tremor. With the skirt a dusty puddle at her feet, Wendy turned her back on the fire and reached up to unpin her hair, the tangled mass falling down her back almost to her hips once it was free. Feeling a little less exposed, Wendy untied the lacings holding her camisole together, slipping it off her shoulders to join the rest of her clothes at her feet. With her arms crossed over her chest, Wendy stood undecided whether to part with her last item of clothing, her eyes fixed on the murky water swirling in the bath while she screwed up her courage to drop her bloomers. As she remained irresolute, Peter came up behind her, reaching past to deposit the last two buckets of warmed water into the bath, bringing the water nearly up to the lip, steam curling off the surface.
"Don't let it get cold." He admonished her, a teasing note in his voice before he returned to the fire, leaving her still standing undecided. Biting her lip she considered the alternative of sleeping in the sweat and dirt of the day.
"Just ignore him...imagine he's invisible." Wendy muttered to herself, turning around and stepping into the bath, sinking below the level of the water as far as she could go. Feeling the warm water soak some of the aches from her limbs, Wendy bent her knees and sunk down under the water, soaking her hair to rinse the dust from it. Rising up, she smoothed the hair from her face with her hands before reaching for a wash cloth and vigorously scrubbed her tingling skin, never once looking at the man on the other side of the fire.
Peter tried to concentrate on the birds roasting on the spit, but his eyes kept being drawn irresistibly to the figure across from him, her pale limbs dipping and swaying as she washed herself, her hair slicked back from her face revealing her sweet features washed golden by the flames. Like a caress he let his eyes dwell on the long neck, the taut tendons drawing him inexorably down and over the slender bones of her shoulders and arms, down her chest to the rise and fall of her breasts, water making them glow and reflect sparks of light from the fire, the tips like dark coins against the white of their flesh.
He lingered over those enticing globes, his body held in thrall as his eyes caressed her, following the stroke of her hand as she washed herself, her face averted even as her wash cloth swept her skin with slow movements. Swallowing hard he tried to drag his gaze away from her, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he strained to break the spell cast by the girl opposite him.
As if only just becoming aware of his regard, Wendy raised her eyes, the long lashes spiked with water,and encountered his across the smoking flames, her hand stilled as it lowered to rinse the cloth in the cooling water, her lips parting on a gasp of awareness.
A log suddenly split in the fire, the loud crack making them both jump as sparks sparkled the air above the roasting birds. Instantly the fragile connection between them was shattered, Wendy feeling the blush of mortification rush into her face, the shaming heat spreading throughout her body as she once more crossed her arms over her breasts, twisting around in the bath, her knees drawn up to her chest to preserve her modesty. At the same moment Peter dropped his eyes to the fire and busied himself turning the cooked birds on the spit, their juices hissing as they dripped into the embers, his face becoming flushed and prickly from the heat.
Wendy couldn't believe she'd forgotten that Peter was only across the fire from her, the warm water making her forget everything in the bliss of removing the dust and sweat coating her skin. Turning around completely, she knelt in the tub, her back to the fire, and dunked her hair once more, swishing it through the water before raising her head and squeezing the excess water out of the tangled strands. She was still wearing her long bloomers, the material clinging to her flesh like a second skin. Despite knowing that they were now as transparent as glass, she felt they gave her a modicum of protection, as ridiculous as if may seem. Twisting her hair so that it lay over her chest, she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that Peter's head was lowered, a splash of tell-tale red painting his cheeks as he fussed with the meat cooking over the fire.
With her hands covering her breasts she slowly rose up out of the water and reached for an undershirt hanging on the rope. Wrapping it about her front she hastily dried herself, her bloomers feeling clammy and cold about her legs as the night air cooled the damp material.
Peter heard her moving about in the bath and forcefully kept his eyes on the fire, his fingers clenching until the knuckles showed white on the twig he'd found among the firewood. His face still burned and he couldn't stand seeing Wendy's accusing eyes across the flames, his body as tight as a bow string as he fought the urge to look up.
Despite many delightful fantasies about Wendy and water after she'd thrown that cupful over him in the cabin, the reality was far more than he'd ever thought possible. A soft cry of pain jerked his head up and he half rose before biting hard on his lip to suppress a moan of longing.
Wendy had her back to him, one leg out of the bath, her hair looped over her shoulder and an old shirt clutched to her chest as an improvised towel. The bloomer's she retained were molded to her bottom as if painted on, the material almost non-existent in its wet state, revealing far more than the wearer realised in the flickering light of the flames.
Forcing himself to relax and sit back down, Peter felt the twig snap between his fingers. "Are you alright?"
"Y-y-es...I just slipped."
"The birds are almost done." Peter croaked, finding it difficult to breath. Wendy only managed a nod, one hand resting on the rim of the bath as she steadied herself before lifting out her other foot and straightening up, her back still to Peter.
"I'll...just get...dressed." Wendy managed to mumble before pushing her way through the improvised curtain and out of his sight.
Collapsing back on the wooden floor, Peter hung his head and tried to still his hectic heartbeat. At this rate she was going to kill him stone dead before the morning.
Smelling burning, he singed his fingers removing the spit and getting the birds off the hot skewer and on to the plates. Keeping himself from thinking of the girl behind the curtain, he fussed over the fruit, sharing it between two plates to put beside the roasted birds. Ignoring the rustling sounds across the room, he fetched the plate of meat slices and threaded them onto the spit, positioning it a little higher so the meat would cook but not burn. Just as he got it balanced, Wendy appeared from behind the curtain and sat down beside the plate he'd filled for her. She wouldn't look at him, preferring to fiddle with the long braid now hanging down her back, the end tied with a faded ribbon. The copper colored dress was creased, the lace over skirt a trifle moth eaten, but Peter thought she looked lovely, her skin glowing above the low neckline as she finished tying up her hair.
Only then did she look up.
For a long moment they just looked at each other, the flickering light of the fire creating shadows and hollows, gilding their outlines.
Wendy thought Peter had never looked so handsome, his youthful features showing the planes and angles of maturity to come, his cheeks darkened with the shadow of stubble, his eyes, rimmed with dark lashes, devouring her like a starving man. Her own wandered over the shirt that hung a little loosely on his frame, the neck lacings untied, exposing an expanse of smooth skin, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, exposing the golden down that covered the steel muscles beneath. The strong column of his neck rose above the white ruffles of the shirt, a pulse beating strongly at the base, her eyes straying up to where his hair still curled damply against his nape and behind his ears.
Peter was taking his own inventory, from the dark sweep of her brows down her straight nose to her full, red lips and the dimple barely visible in the uncertain light.
This time is was the scream of a creature caught in the jaws of a predator that broke the moment, the sound making Wendy put a hand to her throat and look out at the darkness beyond the doorway.
Peter cleared his throat and shifted, "There's nothing out there you need to fear...nothing will bother us in here."
Wendy turned her head to face him and picked up her plate.
"Are there no wild animals on Neverland? I thought you had bears and tigers and lions running loose everywhere."
Grasping the lifeline like a drowning man, Peter followed Wendy's lead and embarked on a story about a giant bear that used to roam the woods until it met it's match in Peter Pan.
As the tension dissipated, Peter and Wendy ate their roast fowl, following it up with the slices of grilled venison, washed down with mugs of ice cold water and finished with the fresh fruit. All through the meal they kept the conversation light and amusing, Wendy's peals of laughter accompanied by Peter's deeper tones as they swapped silly stories and tall tales.
At last Wendy could keep the yawns away no longer, her hand coming up with monotonous regularity as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
"I'm sorry Peter...but I'm for bed," she yawned expansively, Peter grinning as she tried to hide it behind her hand.
"I'm sure you have that sorted as you did everything else."
"Are you saying I'm a managing female?" Wendy retorted archly, rising to her feet and brushing down her skirts before walking around the fire.
"No...never that." Peter quipped, his eyes twinkling down at her as he joined her on the other side of the fire.
"I should think not," said Wendy, the dimple showing before she swept past him and headed for the pile of clothes that were to be their couch for the night. "Do you think we should move this closer to the fire?"
"Only if you want to end up a pile of cinders in the morning."
"Oh." Wendy rubbed her arms and stood uncertainly beside the makeshift bed. "I thought it might be cold, so I didn't make two separate beds." She explained, "I assumed...that is, I thought...we could...share."
Keeping her eyes on the motley assortment of clothes, she missed the tender glance sent her way before Peter cleared his throat and spoke again.
"An excellent idea...and very practical. I'll clear away the remains of the...er...bath and you get yourself settled. I'll need to bank the fire and...suchlike...so don't wait for me."
Not giving her a chance to protest, Peter backed away and busied himself with the buckets of water.
"Don't you want me to help?"
Peter waved her away, carrying two full buckets to the door and flinging the contents out. "No...leave this to me."
Both disappointment and relief warred within her before she chided herself for being a ninny and turned back to the bed.
"If he wants to wear himself out, then let him." She muttered, kneeling on the strange bed and pummelling an old coat into the semblance of a pillow. Satisfied, she pulled off her shoes and placed them neatly beside the mattress of clothes before arranging her skirts to cover her feet and laying down, her back to the fire. She could hear the slop of the water in the buckets and the pad of Peter's bare feet against the wooden floor as he emptied the bath. With the tub upended, he turned his attention to the fire and the remains of their meal, the plates clacking together in a muted way as he placed one over the other to contain the cooked meat for the morning. As she lay there, she stared at the distant shadows of more benches and table against the far wall while Peter moved quietly around the room, the crackle of flames telling her he was banking the fire before leaving it to burn down for the night. After a while her shoulders relaxed and she felt her eyes drooping closed, the distant hoot of an owl lulling her into a doze.
What seemed like only seconds later she awoke to feel the press of warm lips against her cheek. Her gasp of awareness made the figure bending over her freeze.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Peter whispered, the darker shadow of his body only faintly rimmed by the dying light of the fire.
"I must have dozed off...are you coming to bed?"
Her artless enquiry made his heart start to hammer as she gazed up at him, her lids half lowered as she fought the drag of sleep.
Ignoring the thrumming of his blood, Peter carefully lay down beside her, his body not touching hers as he shifted to get comfortable on the lumpy clothes.
"Are you warm enough?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I thought I was, but now..." Her sleepy voice trailed off and Peter reached out a hand to smooth over the rounded skin on her exposed shoulder.
"Scoot back and I'll keep you warm." He ordered, applying pressure to her skin. Wendy instantly complied, her back coming into contact with his front, her knees drawing up as he folded himself around her, her bottom snug against his hips. "Lift your head." He whispered and she did as he asked, his arm providing a pillow, the other draping over her waist with a warm possessiveness that made her tremble.
"You are cold...you're shaking." He breathed against her nape.
"I'm not really cold...it's just..." She felt his lips press against the back of her neck, their dry warmth sending up flares in her belly and firing tingles down all her limbs. "Wh-at are you doing?"
"Kissing you goodnight."
His lips were now on her ear, nibbling the tender flesh around the rim and nuzzling the sensitive skin behind. Wendy moaned softly.
Her arm had been laying against her side, parallel with his. Now her hand curled around his arm and squeezed, his muscles tensing beneath her fingers in response to her touch.
"This isn't like any kissing goodnight I've ever had before." She protested weakly, arching her neck as he progressed in small kisses down her neck to the join with her shoulder.
"This is how we kiss goodnight in Neverland." Pete whispered, intoxicated with the feel of her smooth flesh against his mouth and the smell of her skin, a hint of lilac still lingering despite the bath.
Moving back, he gently pulled Wendy around so that she lay on her back, his lips tracing the line of her jaw, heading inevitably towards her mouth.
"If this...is how...you kiss goodnight," Wendy breathed, the blood singing in her ears. "How does anyone ever...oh God...get to sleep..."
Finally reaching his goal, Peter sealed her lips with his own, her mouth fusing with his as she arched against him, drinking greedily of his kisses, giving as passionately as she received, her faint mews of disappointment whenever they briefly parted bringing him swiftly back to duel with her once more. Tongues danced over each other, exploring and retreating, moans quickly swallowed by greedy lips as the kiss deepened and changed from sweet to essential, arms and hands stroking the flames that had been dormant all through the long evening.
Wendy felt, through a haze of sensation, Peter's fingers tugging at the ribbon binding her braid, his nimble digits releasing her hair and spreading it out before burrowing against her head to angle her mouth for a closer contact, if such a thing was humanely possible. She was sure she was drowning, and Peter was her air, his touch a living flame that would surely burn her to ashes if she didn't have more. She felt like a mad woman, her body a torch only waiting for him to ignite it, her own hands busy stroking him anywhere she could reach, his clothes a barrier that she wanted gone so she could drown in his flesh and get as close as possible, absorb him into herself until there was nothing but one entity, an amalgam of the heat and force driving them onwards.
Mewing a protest, she pulled and tugged at the shirt preventing her from reaching his skin, Peter lifting himself to give her leave to rip the shirt from his back. Not quite achieving that result, she nonetheless managed to get it over his head and tossed off to the side, her fingers instantly melding to his skin, spreading and kneading the silky expanse as Peter groaned his appreciation against her neck. Emboldened by the feel of his heated flesh, Wendy struggled to release herself from her constricting dress, her contortions brought to an abrupt end as the aged fabric ripped with the force of Peter's grip, the material giving up the unequal task of covering her quivering body. Feeling her torso bared to the night air, she almost cried out, gasping as Peter trailed his mouth down her chest and between her breasts, his hands molding her like clay as his mouth found and latched on to one swollen peak, her spine arching off the mattress to press it further into the heat of his mouth.
Where ever he touched her, heat bloomed and spread, warming her as no fire could ever do, her lungs heaving to drag in more air until she felt dizzy. Feverishly she wrapped her fingers about his head and dragged his mouth from her breast and back to her mouth, the hard wall of his chest crushing her tender flesh, the hard nubs of her nipples unbearably sensitive against his satiny skin.
Peter felt as if he was drowning, Wendy his lifeline, her lips his salvation as he feasted on her mouth, his hands stoking over the softness of her flesh, her skirts hampering his exploration of the rest of her body. Nibbling at her lips, he managed to articulate a word before ravishing her face. "Clothes."
Moaning a protest when his lips left hers, Wendy trailed a hand down his back and stopped at the waistband of his trousers, a fingertip slipping beneath the material and running along the edge making Peter groan against her cheek as the teasing finger slid around his side and drifted over his belly as he raised himself up. Sucking in a breath as his flesh jerked in reaction, Peter grabbed her wandering hand and held it, his breath hissing between his teeth.
Wendy gazed up at him languidly, a smile curving her lips. "Too many clothes." She purred, her hand slipping from his grasp to flatten against the wall of his chest, idly toying with the hard nubbin beneath her palm.
Lifting himself away from her, Peter straddled her body, his fingers fumbling with the buttons securing his breeches, his eyes never leaving hers as each fastening was released. Wendy watched him with her heart in her eyes, her breasts rising and falling with the force of her breathing, her lips parted as he rose to his feet and slowly, insolently peeled away his trousers, leaving him in a state she was becoming increasingly familiar with. With the faint glow of the fire highlighting the planes and hollows of his body, Peter knelt down beside her. Gently he gripped the remains of her bodice and, while Wendy willingly lifted her hips, slid the rest of her dress from her body and down her legs to be discarded into the shadows.
Suddenly shy under his scrutiny, Wendy tried to cover herself but his hands were quicker, imprisoning her wrists on either side of her head to keep her from moving, his eyes hidden in the shadows of his face as he stared down at her.
"You are truly the most beautiful of creatures." He breathed, leaning over her to press a kiss against the palm of one upturned hand.
"Oh Peter," Wendy sighed.
"And now I know that you love me, without a doubt," he continued, his hands stroking down her arms and over her ribs, his thumbs caressing over her breasts.
"Oh you do, do you...and how do you know this?" Wendy asked dreamily as Peter lay down beside her, his leg thrown over hers, nudging them apart with insolent ease.
"Because this tells me so," He kissed her slowly, lingeringly. "And this tells me," his head bent as he latched on to a nipple and tugged the hard flesh, "and this..." one wandering hand glided down to the apex of her thighs, caressing between her legs making her writhe against him as he tested her readiness.
Not entirely ready to leave the field open to his easy conquest, Wendy closed her legs on his hand, trapping him there, her own fingers busy finding the source of his passion, curling around its hardness as he bucked against her hand, his teeth clenched against the exquisite feeling of her touch on his heated flesh.
"And what of you?" Wendy whispered, her grip on his manhood wringing low groans from her lover as she stroked him from base to tip, his frame shuddering above her as he fought for control. "Do you love me Peter? Will you say the words, say what we mean to each other...what we've always meant to each other...even as children in paradise?"
"This is paradise," Peter gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as Wendy gripped him more surely, her confidence rising with each moan wrung from his laboring lungs.
"Do you love me Peter?"
Panting, Peter lowered his head and kissed her sweetly. "More than I ever imagined possible."
Releasing her grip on his body, Wendy threw her arms about his neck and pulled him in for a toe curling kiss, her legs parting to give him free rein with her most intimate secrets, her hips lifting to press herself more fully against him as he moved to cover her with his body.
While he pressed ardent kisses over her face, each caress greeted with helpless sighs and blood stirring growls, his body begged entrance to hers, her thighs cradling his hips as he pressed forward. Feeling him enter her body, Wendy became a creature of fire, her skin tingling all over, her liquid center welcoming his hardness, absorbing him into her body as readily as the air into her lungs. With her legs wrapped around his hips, she urged him onwards, her cry of pain smothered against his mouth as he completed a journey that had seemed inevitable from the first moment he'd seen her. With his body tightly seated inside her, Peter paused, lifting his head to stare down at his love, her head thrown back, her hands spread over his shoulders as she accustomed herself to their joining.
"I do love you," he whispered against her shoulder, his heart galloping while he fought the urge to thrust, his body quivering with the force of the battle.
"I've always loved you...since the moment I saw you floating above my bed like some angel come to guard me in my sleep...Oh please, I am dying..." Squeezing her legs, Wendy begged him with her body to bring them release from the fire burning within.
Bracing himself, Peter withdrew from her body before plunging back in, a groan from him echoed by Wendy as he repeated the move, her flesh melded with his in a breathtaking union. Wendy's focus was all on their intimate connection, her body responding eagerly, seeming to expand and fill every thought as she shuddered and writhed against Peter's straining muscles, his back rippling under her palms as he moved inside her. Something was building inside her, straining to be released, her movements becoming frantic as she strived to reach her peak, the final explosion tossing her up into the void, her nails digging into Peter's back as she stiffened then quivered, gasping against his mouth.
"OH!...Oh my...Peter!" Hearing her cry out and her body dissolve around him, Peter felt his own climax bearing down on him, his movements becoming stronger and less coordinated as he followed her over the edge, releasing his control and letting his body have its finish, expelling himself in her pulsating heat, her name leaving his lips on a long, drawn out moan.
Coming back to her senses, Wendy pulled her lover closer, her muscles protesting as she wrapped herself around him, his head seated heavily against her shoulder, his chest crushing her breasts, his weight a welcome blanket against the cool night air finally making its presence felt after the incandescence of passion waned.
His heart still hammering, Peter raised his lead weighted head and gazed down at Wendy, her heavy lidded eyes roving over his face as a smile lifted her lips in a sweet smile full of love and promise.
"I never imagined it would be anything like that." Said Peter, dropping a warm kiss on the tip of her nose.
"I never imagined it would be you." Wendy replied carelessly, her eyes closing as sleep tugged at her in the aftermath of their loving.
She didn't see the faint frown her artless comment drew between Peter's brows, the light in his eyes dying a little.
"Who did you think it would be?" Peter asked, his voice roughened with emotion.
"What?" Wendy asked faintly, already slipping the shackles of the conscious realm.
"Who did you think it would be?" This time the question was voiced in a tone not to be ignored. Dragging herself up from the depths of sleep, Wendy stared, blinking up at Peter who had pulled back, his eyes glittering strangely.
"Who?"
"Who were you expecting to be your lover...if not me, then who?"
Surprised at the anger in his voice, Wendy frowned, her brain still fuzzy from the aftermath of their lovemaking.
"My husband...I suppose." Wendy replied frankly, still puzzling over his aggrieved tone.
"And did you have someone in mind?"
"What are you talking about?"
"This husband...is there another man who has a claim on you?"
"Peter...what is this? I love you...there is no-one else, has never been anyone else!"
"You have that right!...There will never be anyone else...what I have I hold...remember that!" Not giving her a chance to reply, Peter smothered her parted lips with his own and kissed her savagely, his previously lax body surging into hardness again, her own defenses brushed aside by the force of his possession. Wendy didn't fight against the tide of his body's demands, her own rising swiftly to meet him as they raced to a heady and violent completion. Shuddering in his release, Peter collapsed spent upon her breast, his harsh breathing fanning her skin with flames as she stroked his damp curls and murmured soothing words to calm his torrid emotions.
"I'm sorry...did I hurt you?" His mumbled apology against her breast made her smile.
"You didn't hurt me Peter...and you have nothing to be jealous of, there was no-one I cared for, no man came close to making me feel the way you do."
Feeling his tense muscles relax, Wendy cuddled him closer, smiling as she nuzzled the curls tickling her chin.
Peter sighed gustily, his body demanding sleep even as he wished the night to never end. Rolling to the side, he gathered Wendy against his chest, her legs laying over his, her arms curled around his waist as she snuggled beside him. Wrapped in a heady cocoon of requited love and satiated with passion, Peter and Wendy slipped easily into sleep, the fire's glow dying as the night shrouded the room and its occupants in darkness.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
TBC...